


Iron Prince

by Lhugy_for_short



Series: Lhugy's Giveaway Round 3 [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: 18/20, Established Relationship, M/M, Noct tries to do something sweet for their anniversary, brotherhood era, he fails hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 05:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15212381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: For their six-month anniversary, Noct is determined to do something special for Iggy. It's only later he realizes he...probably should have stayed out of the kitchen.





	Iron Prince

**Author's Note:**

> This is for dementeddiva on Tumblr, who won my giveaway like _forever ago_ and I just now managed to finish this. Sorry :( 
> 
> The request was for BHE Ignoct, where Noct attempts to make breakfast for Iggy, but it all goes horribly wrong lol (It's SFW, but also kinda suggestive.... )

Noctis smacks his phone, silencing it quickly before the vibrations can wake Iggy sleeping beside him. He slowly peels his eyes open and considers - very seriously - ignoring his alarm, nodding back off for at least another two hours until he  _ actually  _ has to be up for class.  _ Five forty-five _ , the numbers on the screen read; bright and bold and almost mocking him with the reminder that  _ this was his own stupid plan. _

Three whole weeks worth of a plan, to be precise. Three weeks of plotting, shopping, and keeping secrets, all to make today as unexpected a surprise as possible. Because this morning marks precisely six months since he and Ignis started dating officially (and, coincidentally, six months since the night of his eighteenth birthday). A chance to celebrate this big milestone isn't going to come around again for a while - and he's been determined to make it something special. 

Even if it means getting out of bed at the most ungodsly hour known to man.

It's impossible to disentangle himself from Ignis’ limbs without waking him, but he’s quick to silence any groggy questions with a series of well-placed kisses. Ignis rolls over, nestles his face into the pillow, and to Noct’s relief is snoring softly again within seconds. 

He takes the opening. While Iggy drifts back into dreams, Noct grabs a t-shirt off the floor (he thinks it’s his own; he doesn’t bother to check) and tiptoes barefoot out to the kitchen to get to work. 

Eggs, check. Milk, check. Bread, check. Last, he finds the cinnamon up on the top shelf of the pantry where he’s kept it hidden for weeks (Ignis would have  _ definitely _ figured out something was up if he caught Noct with unapproved spices in his apartment). Everything he needs is set out in a row on the counter, along with a wide bowl and a funny stirry thing that CookMog tells him is called a “whisk.” The recipe is simple enough, he thinks. Even a prince who usually lives off pizza rolls and potato chips should be able to make it. 

He starts with the eggs, like the recipe on the website says to do. Cracks one into the bowl and tosses the empty shell into the sink. “Cake, baby,” he grins, and reaches for the next one. 

The problem with eggs - not like Noct’s ever really thought about it - is that they’re round. As in,  _ no edges _ , which would have otherwise stopped the thing from rolling right out of his grasp and onto the floor the second his fingers brush against it. 

_ Crack _ . 

It’s over in a microsecond, but the mess is...well,  _ messy _ . There’s yellow egg goop in a puddle around the broken shell on the tiles, not to mention dripping down the face of the cabinets that got caught in the blast. There’s even some on Noct’s right foot, little bits of eggshell and yolk splashed across his toes. 

The prince groans as quietly as he can. So much for easy starts. 

Five minutes and several handfuls of paper towels later, Noct’s floor has probably never looked cleaner (at least in one egg-shaped spot). He tosses the evidence in the trash can, then gets back to focusing on the task at hand. Another egg from the fridge, this time held carefully in both hands as he cracks it into the bowl, successfully mess-free. 

According to the recipe, the next step is the milk. It calls for two-thirds cup “gently whisked” into the eggs, but Noct is pretty sure that’s too much math just for breakfast. Frowning, he picks up the carton of milk, sniffs it, and decides that  _ nah _ , it isn’t worth the effort - or the risk. Iggy sometimes leaves entire ingredients out of meals when he cooks, after all, and everything  _ he _ makes tastes amazing. 

Besides, milk is pretty gross anyway. 

Onto step three: the cinnamon. Now  _ here’s  _ something Noct can get excited about. Cinnamon sounds like dessert - cream rolls, parfaits, crepes - and that means  _ sweet _ . So instead of the teaspoon that the recipe calls for, the prince shakes the contents hard over the bowl a few times (and a few more for good measure) until he thinks the color looks about right. He whisks the whole mixture as gently as he possibly can, then sets it aside while he scans the recipe for the next steps. 

“ _ Lightly coat pan with room temperature butter, _ ” he reads aloud, making sure to keep his voice low so as not to wake Ignis down the hall. “ _ Lightly coat pan…. _ ” Somewhere on the Internet, there’s probably a video to help him with this part. But he’s already wasted time with the broken egg, and seriously, what could possibly go wrong if he just...tries? Digging through the fridge awards him half a stick of butter (he’s pretty sure Iggy was the first and last person to use it), which he slices into three smaller pieces and dumps into the frying pan all at once. 

_ Perfect _ . Next, the burner. 

It should  _ probably _ be embarrassing that he’s lived in his apartment for months now and still has only used the stove once to heat up leftover nachos. Iggy uses it most, unsurprisingly, and thankfully Noct’s learned a little about it from peeking over his shoulder. He knows, for example, which dial turns on the front burner, and which buttons operate the clock. “ _ Fry each side 2-3 minutes or until brown _ ,” he recites to himself, and sets the timer to match. 

As the butter starts to melt into a thick, delicious-smelling pool in the middle of the pan, Noct moves onto the fun part: dunking the bread. It’s a bit messier than he expected, especially because the slices of bread don’t fit quite right in the circular bowl. In fact, by the time he’s finished coating the first piece, his fingers and the countertop are covered in sticky splashes of egg and cinnamon. More drips in a line all the way to the stove as he carries the first slice to the pan, angles it the best he can, and plops it down into the now-bubbling pool of butter. 

Success! Maybe…. It might still be too early to tell, but Noct is hopeful. With the timer set for three minutes (just to be on the safe side), he sets to task prepping the rest. 

He’s halfway through a round of King’s Knight when he realizes something might be wrong. The smell of cinnamon and toast that lulled him into a sense of security is gone now, replace by something that smells like...well.  _ Burning _ . Glancing up from his phone, he’s shocked at how much smoke could possible come from such a tiny fry pan. 

_ Not good, not good!  _

The prince jumps into action. Reaches through the cloud of smoke to kill the burner, while with his other hand he yanks the pan - and his ruined breakfast - off the stove completely. The smoke is still everywhere, though, and his genius plan to throw open the window is a minute late and a gil short. Within moments, the fire alarm in the kitchen is blaring to life, waking up half the apartment building while Noctis stands, alone, mourning his blackened toast. 

That’s how Ignis finds him. Despite the panicked screeching of the alarm overhead, the sight is enough to freeze him in his tracks in the hallway. Because there’s the prince, head hung and wearing Iggy’s t-shirt, holding out a plate of the saddest piece of  _ pain perdu _ he’s ever set eyes on. “Happy anniversary, Specs,” Noct mumbles, just as a lump of sticky paper towels drops off the edge of the trash can. Fitting punctuation, Ignis thinks, for the end of the scene. 

Together, they clean the kitchen. It takes nearly an hour, between scrubbing the floor and soaking the scorched pan, and Noctis spends most of that time in brooding silence. Meanwhile, Ignis sets a couple cups of coffee to brew while they work. He isn’t angry - far from it - and as soon as they’re finished and he’s had his first sip of the day, he’s pulling his boyfriend into his arms to thank him properly. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to go to all this trouble for me, Noctis,” he hums. “It’s very sweet of you.” 

“Yeah, well. I screwed everything up so, y’know. I should probably be apologizing.”

“Nonsense. It’s not every man who can say he’s had a prince slave over a hot stove for him.” There’s humor in his eyes when he speaks, and even Noct can’t help but smile a little at that one. “What do you say we go out for breakfast, instead? Together.”

Deep, blue eyes blink wide. “But...you have work? And I have school, and….”

“Today is a special exception. And I’m pretty certain we’ve already worked enough already. In fact,” Ignis smirks, and  _ gods _ Noct loves when he does that. “After breakfast, I believe the best course of action is to go straight back to bed.”

When Noct swallows, it’s the loudest thing in the kitchen. “Yeah. Yeah, sounds great. Thanks, Specs.”

Iggy’s lips feel like forgiveness when they find his, sleek and soft at the same time, and warm as the bubbles that always burst in his chest when they kiss. Noct smiles against his mouth; breakfast actually might have to wait…. 

“ _ Mm _ . One thing, though, Highness, if I may.” 

The prince, already reaching for the pajama bottoms around Iggy’s hips, glances up. 

“For our next anniversary - to save us both the trouble - leave the cooking to me, hm? I’d much rather have a simple cup of coffee and a blowjob in bed.”


End file.
